


paint the town blue

by planetsoflove



Category: Chicken Girls (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mental Health Issues, Underage Drinking, We'll see what else happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetsoflove/pseuds/planetsoflove
Summary: When she sits back down, Gemma is staring at her, something similar to amusement in her eyes. Rhyme smiles back at her, stomach flipping. She hopes that was a good amusement, like “Wow, the new sophomore on the team is as cool as I thought she would be,” or “Wow, new sophomore isn’t a baby who can’t hold a drink.”----Season 6 Rhyme-centric rewrite.
Relationships: Rhyme McAdams/Gemma, rhyme/gemma
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6.03, rewritten.

The boy pouring drinks tells Rhyme it's a punch, but it reminds her more of a cough syrup. She takes quick sips, trying not to gag on it. He shoots her a smile, and she nods, with a thumbs up. 

She joins the circle of party-goers around the couch. Their names go in one ear and out the other. Rhyme's feeling a bit adrift. It had been a weird day, and she's not sure how Gemma had convinced her to go to this party. Especially since the only person she _did_ know was Gemma, who had been quickly snagged by some seniors. 

Rhyme leans against the wall, and looks at Gemma across the circle. She sits on the couch, right next to Benji. She'd remembered his name, at least. She doesn’t like his face. She doesn’t know much about him, but as she goes for another solo cup of whatever the cough syrup shit is made of, she knows she doesn’t like anything else about him. He keeps looking Gemma up and down, and tries too hard to be around her, to throw an arm over the back of the couch where she sits.

Benji, (and his stupid, stupid, face) suggests they play spin the bottle. Rhyme’s never played before, but the last time she played any kind of party game she ended up in a closet with TK for seven minutes. She’s trying to think of an excuse when everyone else agrees. Benji stands, dumps the rest of a handle of vodka into the punch, and brings the empty bottle back to the group.

Fine. She’s a Rhyme McAdams. She’s a cheerleader. She can handle a party game.

Benji gives the bottle a hearty spin. It lands on a girl a few spaces away from Rhyme, and neither the girl or Benji look particularly thrilled about it. But, per the game, per Benji’s suggestion, they kiss.

The boy to Benji’s right spins the bottle. Rhyme zones out, somehow avoiding getting kissed. She takes the time to refill her cup, twice, stalling long enough to miss a few more rounds. 

When she sits back down, Gemma is staring at her, something similar to amusement in her eyes. Rhyme smiles back at her, stomach flipping. She hopes that was a good amusement, like _“Wow, the new sophomore on the team_ is _as cool as I thought she would be,”_ or _“Wow, new sophomore isn’t a baby who can’t hold a drink.”_

Rhyme lowers herself back to the floor, taking another sip. It’s a bit stronger now that Benji finished the bottle in it, but she’s getting used to the bitterness. 

The girl next to Rhyme (Heather? or was she Olivia? She looks more like a Heather.) nudges her in the ribs. Rhyme looks around the group. “Your turn, sophomore,” Gemma says, smirking. “Give it a spin.”

Her luck had to run out eventually.

Rhyme reaches out to grab the bottle, plastic crunching underneath her grip. She uses her whole arm to give the bottle a spin, and it rotates on the cement. She had avoided paying too much attention to it earlier, but can’t stop looking at how oddly it distorts the reflections of the others as it spins. It’s been an odd night. The bottle stopping on Gemma has probably been the most normal thing that’s happened yet.

Benji shifts in his seat. “Doesn’t count.” He looks around the group. “It doesn’t count if it lands on another girl.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “It’s not 2003, idiot.” Gemma puts her cup down on the ground and moves closer to the middle of the circle. “Since we’re all still playing.” It’s not phrased as a question, but Rhyme knows that this is her out. This is her chance to remember she’s a little bit drunk, to remember she has a boyfriend, to say no, to say _“Just kidding, everyone. I’m actually as much of a loser as you all thought I was. Thanks for having me!”_

Gemma raises an eyebrow at her, waiting. _Still playing, sophomore? Still cool?_ Rhyme looks at Gemma’s lips, glistening. Gemma had told Rhyme it was a strawberry gloss, earlier. Rhyme decides she wants to try it on, and she leans in for the kiss.

Gemma’s hands find the back of Rhyme’s shoulder’s, pulling her in even closer, shaking her off balance until Rhyme puts her hands on Gemma’s back to stabilize herself. And once she does, _God_ , does she feel different. Rhyme isn’t sure if it’s the feeling of kissing a girl, or if it’s just kissing Gemma, but there’s a sudden lightness to her whole body, like she’ll float to the ceiling if she doesn’t hold on tight enough. It’s different than she expected. She’s not sure what else to say. She doesn’t want to think about much at all.

Rhyme feels Gemma smile, but then she pulls back. Rhyme opens her eyes and blinks, faltering—wanting to raise a hand out to touch her lips, to touch Gemma, to touch anything that will prove that she didn’t hallucinate the experience—but she adjusts her weight and moves back to her seat on the floor.

She passes the bottle to the person on her right and finishes off her drink.

* * *

It’s past two when people start to head home. Rhyme goes to sort through the pile of coats as Gemma says goodbye to her friends. Rhyme hears Benji’s voice above it all. She might be eavesdropping, but she’s past the point of sobriety to care.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Benji says. Rhyme adjusts herself so she can see Benji and Gemma in her peripheral. He’s got an arm on one side of Gemma, leaning into her. He’s trying to do it so casually, and failing so miserably it makes Rhyme want to laugh. She bites her tongue and grabs her coat, still digging through for Gemma’s.

“I have to get home, Benji. Thanks for the party.” She turns to leave, but he reaches out for her arm, switching their conversation so Rhyme can only see Gemma’s face. She imagines Benji is still talking, but they’re a bit out of her range now. She sees Gemma’s coat and grabs it, walking over to their conversation. Rhyme watches Gemma’s face turn from boredom to disdain, as Gemma stomps on Benji’s toes and says, “Have a nice night, asshole.” Rhyme’s eyes widen. Benji reaches for his foot, and Gemma spins away from him. She looks for Rhyme, and walks over to her. “Ready to go?” She asks, cheerfully. Rhyme nods, and hands Gemma her coat.

Rhyme lets Gemma tug on her hand and lead her out into the cold. It's not so bad, not when Gemma is keeping her hand warm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rhyme and wes! the day after the party!

Wes has two to-go cups in his hands the next day. He’s waiting for her next to her locker. She’s wearing her big sunglasses, and already downed two Advils to help with the throbbing headache she’d woken up with. “Hey, stranger.” He says, holding out one of the cups towards her. She accepts it, and swings open her locker. “How was movie night?”

“What?” Rhyme asks, pulling her backpack off her shoulder. “Oh! It was nice.” She smiles at him. Movie night. Right. She was at movie night last night,  _ not  _ at a party. “How was work?” 

He shrugs. “It was work.” She smiles. She’s rearranging things in her locker, coffee cup resting on the edge of it. She’s not ignoring him. But the hallway is loud, and every voice whacks a hammer into her temple before finding her ears. That punch might have been stronger than she expected. It was certainly stronger than anything Ace ever threw in his concoctions and she was feeling the full extent of it now. Plus, the added morality question of  _ 'did she cheat on Wes or not’  _ was bothering her a little more now that she’s sober. She takes another sip of the latte. 

Wes question furrows his eyebrows. She can see it in the mirror of her locker. Her chest tightens. She closes her locker, grabbing the coffee, and kisses him. He’s her boyfriend. This is the kiss that matters, not whatever happened last night. It was a game, anyways. Like Gemma had said. 

Gemma. Wes. Very different kisses. Very different people. Wes is kind. He's tall. He's smart. He notices how she dog-ears books because she loses her bookmarks. He’s nothing like any of the boys she dated before and Rhyme _really_ _likes_ that about him. She really likes Wes. Gemma is different. Gemma stomps on the feet of annoying boys at parties. Gemma winks at Rhyme in the library. Gemma squeezes Rhyme’s hand twice before she lets go. She’s a senior. She’s the cheer captain. Rhyme doesn’t understand half of her. But she understands Wes. Wes is kind, and she likes that about him. And that’s enough. 

Rhyme pulls away from the kiss. She smiles at Wes. “I’ll see you at lunch?” 

He nods, and she turns to go to class. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still here, vibing. anyways. if anyone reads this, cool. more gemma/rhyme buildup with a bit of ellie thrown in.

Ellie is pissed off at her for some reason Rhyme can’t figure out, but what else is new. Rhyme’s so over it. She has other things to do. She’s  _ Rhyme McAdams.  _ She’ll be fine. She has a newspaper to edit, cheer tricks to practice, and textbooks to read. 

A waft of perfume floods into Rhyme’s senses. “Hey, sophomore,” Gemma drags a hand over Rhyme’s shoulders as she passes by, to sit in the chair next to her. She throws her bag onto the table and leans against it, looking at Rhyme. Rhyme hadn’t seen her since practice this morning. Rhyme had run out as soon as possible, trying not to stand in the locker room for too long, getting hit by too much hairspray. It gave her more time to see Wes, and less to think about the feeling of Gemma’s lips against her own. Rhyme thinks about it more than she’ll admit. Gemma points to the textbook. “It’s, like, the third week of classes. Don’t tell me you’re already behind.” 

Rhyme rolls her eyes, playfully. “Trying to get ahead, actually. Someone decided to increase cheer practice to six days a week, so.” Rhyme shrugs. Gemma swats her arm. 

“When we make states, you’ll be thanking me.” Gemma says with confidence. “Attaway’s never done it before, you know?” 

Rhyme knows. Gemma had talked about it the whole time they walked home from the party. But she shakes her head, and gestures for Gemma to keep going, wanting to see the passion Gemma has for the team come out again. She dog-ears the page and closes her book. The American Revolution could wait. Taxes, tea, Tories. She’s got the gist. 

“We came close in 2009, but Millwood came and stole the qualifier. But they’ve never had me as the Captain before.” Gemma steals a quick look at Rhyme. Rhyme focuses on Gemma. On her enthusiasm, the way the light from the windows hits her cheekbones, and the way she twists at the rings on her fingers while she talks.

It’s been a while since she made a new friend. They talk until the sun sets. Rhyme’s face aches from smiling for so long. 

“Want a ride home?” Gemma asks, after a period of silence. Rhyme nods, packing up her forgotten textbook and notes. Gemma stands, stretches. Her back cracks. 

“Geezer.” Rhyme shoots, zipping her backpack. 

“So you don’t want a free ride then, sophomore?” Gemma says, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “You could walk. You’ll need the cardio for cheer.” 

“Very funny.” Rhyme says, standing up and following Gemma through the double doors. The school is mostly empty, no one staying this late on a Tuesday unless they had a good reason. 

From around the corner, steps Ellie, with a boy. Each wearing formal clothes. Probably coming from debate, if Ellie still did that. Rhyme slows down. Maybe they wouldn’t see each other. Gemma looks over at her, face knitted in concern. “You alright?” She asks. 

Of course, at that time, Ellie looks up and sees Rhyme. “Oh.” She says. “Hi, Rhyme.” 

“Ellie.” 

“Hi, I’m Carlos!” The boy standing next to Ellie says, sticking a hand out. Uh, okay. Rhyme reaches out and shakes his hand, despite how weirded out she is. The handshake is loose, and it mostly just feels like her arm is getting shaken around. She lets go quickly. 

“What are you doing here?” Ellie asks, with a shakiness in her voice. She straightens her posture. Rhyme wants to roll her eyes, but she holds back. Ellie is so easy to upset. 

“It’s a school,” Gemma interjects. Ellie’s head snaps towards her, like she’s just realized Rhyme isn't alone. “Didn’t think we’d run into the police.” 

Rhyme laughs, even though she’s sure that it’s only making Ellie more upset with her. 

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” 

“Gemma.” 

Ellie gives her a once over, and then looks back to Rhyme. “Well, Gemma. I think I was asking Rhyme.” 

This time, Rhyme does roll her eyes. “Goodbye, Ellie. Text me once you’ve left middle school.” She grabs Gemma’s hand and pushes between Ellie and….whatever his name was. 

The air is bitter when they step outside. 

“Friend of yours?” Gemma asks, leading them to her car. 

“Something like that.” Rhyme replies. Gemma squeezes her hand, and keeps walking, so Rhyme continues. “We’re in a fight more than we’re not. We’ve just been friends for so long it feels too hard to change anything. A lot of history, I guess.” 

Gemma drops Rhyme’s hand as they reach her car. Rhyme swings open the door to get into the passenger’s seat. Gemma starts the ignition and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to be friends with her, still?” 

Rhyme pauses. Thinks about drawing chalk figures on her driveway with Ellie. Thinks about crying with her when Ellie’s parents got divorced. About flying to California when Ellie worked with Robin Robbins. When Ellie went for Robby after Rhyme did. All the fights, all the makeups. 

“I don’t know,” Rhyme says. “It’s complicated, I guess.” 

Gemma nods. She turns the radio on. Shifts the car into drive. 

_ Complicated, _ Rhyme thinks. That's one way to describe it. 


End file.
